Claiming Chase: (A Second Chance Stepbrother Romance)

by Eve, Charlotte

  I just nodded, now for some reason unable to speak as I felt his eyes on me, pinning me in place.

  “Besides,” he continued. “It’s complicated, isn’t it?”

  He’d moved closer to me now, just a foot or so away, and he was looking straight at me, forcing me to return his gaze and to answer his question.

  I looked back, but it was just too intense. All I could do was nod, before quickly turning away, my heart pounding as I forced myself to stare at a spot on the rec room carpet, farthest away from him.

  And just then, I felt the warmth of his finger, gently cupping my chin as he slowly turned my face back towards him.

  “Look at me, Charity,” he said quietly. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

  I still felt dumbstruck, but his honesty forced me to speak.

  “Yes, I do,” I whispered.

  We remained like that for a moment — our eyes locked, his hand still on my face, our faces just inches away from each other. It felt like the whole world had melted away, and it was just the two of us.

  And then he kissed me. So gently.

  “You’re so beautiful, Charity,” he whispered between kisses. “I just can’t seem to stay away from you …”

  “I don’t want you to,” I managed to say between sighs, feeling his hands move from my face to my hair, then downwards, to my neck, then my shoulders, and then finally my breasts.

  I shivered, overwhelmed by the feelings flashing through me. I’d never gone this far before with anyone, but Chase seemed to know exactly what to do, his fingers softly toying with my hardening nipples through the soft fabric of my vest, my body trembling as I gave myself up so eagerly to him, kissing him urgently, pushing my tongue into his mouth, pushing myself towards him as his hands moved to my ass now, pulling me even closer, urging me to grind against him, his tongue flicking against my own as I felt the electricity surging through me, that secret place between my legs throbbing now, almost aching as our bodies pushed themselves against each other, Chase’s own desire now becoming clear too, the sheer heat and hardness of him, straining against his jeans, sending another shiver of excitement through me, and I moaned into his mouth as his hand finally strayed between my legs, cupping me there, his fingers softly pressing and rubbing me through the denim of my cutoffs.

  I felt my own fingers moving to his body now, too: exploring first the broadness of his back, and then slipping beneath his shirt, my fingertips tracing over the smoothness of his skin — first the taught ridges of his abs, then the smooth muscled curves of his pecs — this perfect body that I’d longed to touch, ever since I’d first laid eyes on him.

  And it seemed as if he was just as interested in my body too, his hands pulling at my vest urging it upwards.

  I gasped as he uncovered me, baring my breasts. I’d not worn a bra and the cool air on my bare skin felt electrifying.

  I felt so many things at once: shy and embarrassed (after all, this was the first boy who’d ever seen my breasts) but excited too, excited at the way his eyes moved hungrily over my flesh, excited at the way my nakedness seemed to make that enticing bulge in his pants grow even bigger.

  I gasped as he leant forward, taking my breasts tenderly in his hands, cupping them, thumbing my sensitive nipples, causing them to stiffen even further, before he brought his mouth down towards my left breast, his lips enclosing my nipple, his tongue teasing it so deliciously that I shivered uncontrollably, every nerve on my body now aflame.

  And as he continued to kiss my breasts, I felt my own fingers beginning to fumble with the buttons on his jeans, somehow getting them open, my hands urgently slipping between his legs, stroking his hot hardness through the tight cotton of his briefs.

  Then, in a moment of confidence, I tugged down his briefs too, uncovering him — his cock so big and hard, flushed a deep pink and jutting up towards me, the first I had ever seen.

  At this, he pulled his head away from me, his eyes blazing, catching me with a look so intense I shivered again.

  Then, slowly and deliberately, he turned his attention to the buttons of my shorts, popping them open before confidently tugging them down over my legs and throwing them behind him.

  I could feel myself melting, yearning for him now, the heat between my legs blazing so intensely.

  He moved above me again, touching me there, working my hot wetness with his fingers through the cotton of my sensible pale pink panties, causing me to moan and shudder as he brought me right to the edge of orgasm, just from the slow movement of his fingers.

  Then, with the same confidence he’d pulled off my shorts, he pulled down my panties too, exposing me, the cool air of the rec room flashing against my burning flesh, his hungry eyes moving between my legs, my thighs spread wide apart as I trembled beneath him, silently urging him inside me.

  He took hold of his cock and then positioned himself right between my legs, rubbing the tip of himself against the hot wetness of my opening, teasing me, his eyes once more locking with mine.

  God, I wanted him inside me then more than anything in the world. I’d never slept with anyone before, but I could feel it, a deep intense longing that I knew nothing but Chase could quell.

  But just then I saw something change in his face — an expression I couldn’t read at first. But then he withdrew, his eyes widening, as he realized just what he was doing.

  “I can’t,” he murmured. “I can’t do this …”

  “Please,” I whispered, feeling my heart hammering in my chest, my breathing shallow, my face flushed with heat.

  But he shook his head, and then in one quick motion, he’d buttoned up his jeans, grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it back on as he bounded up the stairs, slamming the door behind him, leaving me there, my vest still pulled up exposing my breasts, my panties damp around my ankles, left in utter confusion.

  I heard the front door slam shut too, and then a moment later the sound of his bike engine firing into life.

  He was gone.

  I couldn’t hold back. I cried, hot angry tears of rejection, of confusion, of hurt. I pulled down my vest, and grabbed my cutoffs, buttoning them back up.

  I sat back down on the sofa, shell-shocked. I wanted to get out of there, that horrible room where he’d humiliated me. But I couldn’t move. I was too scared of running into Cassie or Dad. It felt like it was written all over me — what had happened. I felt like if they took one look at me, they’d know immediately what we’d done.

  So I just sat there.

  It must have been three o’ clock in the morning before I finally mustered the courage to push myself up from the sofa and head up to my room, where I flopped onto my bed, exhausted, and cried myself to sleep.

  But what I didn’t know that night was that Chase was gone — for good. He didn’t turn up for breakfast; that was no surprise, and I was kind of relieved, anyway. I mean, how could I face him now, in front of Dad and Cassie? Then he didn’t turn up for dinner. That wasn’t exactly unusual, either.

  But the next day, and then the day after, and still nothing.

  And pretty soon, it was clear that he just wasn’t coming back.

  Cassie didn’t even seem that bothered — this wasn’t the first time, he’d just taken off like this before apparently.

  Dad was worried and wanted to call the police. But Cassie told him not to. What was the point, she said. You couldn’t control a kid like that, and besides, he was eighteen in a few days. He’d be considered an adult in the eyes of the law. It was up to him where he wanted to go. She was done with him anyway, and she actually seemed kind of relieved that he’d gone.

  There were still a few weeks left of our summer vacation. Without any responsibility at all, Cassie took up drinking even more enthusiastically than before, and most nights seemed to pick an argument of some sort with my dad. So most nights I escaped to my tiny hot bedroom. I couldn’t face going into the rec room anymore.

  I spent my evenings lying on my bed, unable to concentrate on my book, staring int
o space when I wasn’t crying.

  I had so many questions. Was I ever gonna find out just what the hell had happened that night?

  It’s funny. Despite all the years that have happened since, all the changes in my life, and the ways I’ve grown up, I’ve never really moved on from that night.

  “You’ve been a very bad boy, Chase Parker.”

  You don’t know the half of it.

  I’m in a bar, on a date with Aubrey Grant. I couldn’t handle being alone tonight, so I called her up. She agreed to meet me straight away, although now we’re both participating in the fiction that I’ve had to beg her to see me this evening.

  “You know you’re very lucky that I agreed to go on a date with you at all, after the way you treated me,” she laughs coyly. “You’re gonna have to try very hard if you’re gonna get anywhere with me tonight mister.”

  She’s twirling a lock of her long, blonde hair around her finger, looking up at me through downturned eyelashes, not to mention rubbing my leg with her foot beneath the table.

  I don’t think I’m going to have to try very hard, do you?

  I take a sip of my martini and sigh.

  The truth is, I’m bored.

  Being in this bar is boring. Aubrey Grant is boring.

  What am I even doing here? I know that being home is driving me crazy at the moment, but I should have just stayed at work, gone to the gym, gone out on my bike, anything but this.

  We’re only on our first drink, which means I’m facing at least another two rounds worth of conversation with Aubrey. There’s only one thing for it.

  I look deep into her eyes, and say, “Let’s go to your place.”

  §

  Aubrey’s apartment is like a boudoir. All velvet chaise longues and enormous gilt-edged mirrors, all the better for her to admire herself in. She’s so vacuous, chattering away about herself as she fixes our drinks.

  I feel uncomfortable here, like an animal in a sumptuous padded cage. We should have just gone back to mine, but ever since Charity pointed out the way I live — my lack of furniture, my inability to settle down — I just want to spend even less time there than I did before.

  Maybe I should hire an interior designer. Get somebody in who knows about these things. Someone with taste, to choose me some new furniture. That’ll show her. And it’ll impress the other girls, too …

  Right now, Aubrey’s still pretending like she’s playing hard to get. Like she isn’t pouring me glasses of champagne, tossing her hair around, crossing and uncrossing her legs, the works.

  I wonder if she knows just how obvious she looks: perched there on the edge of the sofa in her tiny black sleeveless mini dress, pouting and giggling. It’s kind of a turn off to be honest. Still, she’s trying so hard, it would be rude not to fuck her. Besides, if I do, at least she’ll stop talking.

  So I lean over, grab her tiny waist and pull her towards me, sending her empty champagne flute crashing to the floor. “Come on then, you know you want it,” I say. An obvious girl deserves an obvious line. And she’s loving it.

  She gasps and pretends to struggle a little, but within seconds she’s hooked her leg over mine and now she’s straddling me.

  I’m touching her all over. This glorious creature is right on top of me, grinding herself against me. Those breasts. That ass. That body.

  But I’m just not feeling it.

  Come on, Chase.

  This is not what I want.

  I’m hard, sure, but that’s just my body responding. But my brain? My brain is elsewhere.

  What’s wrong with you?

  And then it hits me all at once: Charity. Of course it’s her. I just can’t get her out of my mind.

  I bail.

  I push Aubrey off me, grab my jacket and get out of there, leaving her sprawled on her sofa, hair mussed up, dress down around her waist, exposing her breasts, looking confused and shouting angrily after me, “What the fuck, Chase?”

  But I just go.

  Like I always do.

  Like I ran from Charity.

  I threw her away, and she’s right. She was right about everything — I am still just a scared little boy. I’m terrified of settling down. I’m terrified that if I get involved with somebody, they might hurt me. All my success in business, all the money I’ve made, doesn’t mean a thing if I’m still just as rootless as back then, when I was practically homeless, moving around from place to place, never staying anywhere longer than a few weeks.

  Charity, where are you?

  I’ve got to get her back.

  But I pushed her so far away, where the fuck do I even start?

  “I have to say I’m slightly concerned about your progress, Charity,” Professor Lane says. “I expected you to have written at least another five thousand words by this stage. And I see that you’ve still not taken my advice about Wuthering Heights. Is everything okay?”

  I sigh.

  No. Nothing’s okay.

  But how do I tell him?

  I mean I can’t exactly say, ‘Well, you see Professor Lane, when I was a teenager I was madly in love with my stepbrother, but he rejected me. And now I’ve found him again. And he’s no longer my stepbrother. But he’s rejected me again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s why I can’t properly analyze Wuthering Heights. Maybe the complicated pseudo brother-and-sister relationship between Cathy and Heathcliff is just a little too close to home for me, okay?’

  So what I say instead is, “I guess I am having trouble sleeping. So I’ve not been able to concentrate properly on my work recently.”

  It’s not a lie.

  “You wouldn’t be the first student to come unstuck at this stage of their thesis,” he says. “I recommend going to campus counseling. It’ll do you good to talk to somebody who understands. And why not see your doctor, too? I don’t usually advocate medication, but sleeping pills can be good in the short term for stress related disorders like this.”

  “Thanks, Professor Lane,” I say, gathering my things and heading out the door. “I’ll get the next chapter to you this time next week, I promise.”

  “Don’t over-stretch yourself,” he says. “Just work at your own pace. And I meant it about the counseling. Too many of you students bottle up your problems and it’s not good for you.”

  Professor Lane is right again. I do bottle up my problems.

  I haven’t even told anyone about Chase. Not really. Not the full story. I’ve told Gabby the edited highlights, but left out a few important details. I don’t feel like pouring my heart out to a stranger, but it is time that I talked this over properly with somebody.

  I’ve dreamed all my life of getting my PhD, and I’ll be damned if I let Chase Lowe or Chase Parker or whoever he is now stand in the way of my dreams.

  I head out of Professor Lane’s office and walk down the corridor, texting Gabby as I go.

  You home?

  She responds almost immediately, and I know she should be studying but is happy for the distraction.

  Yep!

  I need a chat, I text back. I’ll be back in an hour. I’ll bring cookies.

  Great, she replies. I need a break.

  I feel full of a new sense of purpose, for the first time in what seems like ages. I might not be heading to the library, but I’m taking steps to sort this all out, once and for all.

  As I walk down the main steps, I’m startled by the voice calling out my name. I turn in its direction.

  Chase.

  What is he doing here?

  Has he come to torment me once more?

  Didn’t he humiliate me thoroughly enough last time? Did he perhaps forget some other cruel barb to stick in my side?

  I keep on moving.

  “Charity, wait,” he calls out, catching up with me, grabbing my arm, turning me to face him.

  “Get your hands off me,” I say, roughly jerking my arm from his grip.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, “but please wait. I need to talk to you.”

  “Oh,
do you?” I snap back.

  “Yes,” he urges, almost breathless now. “Yes, I do. You see …”

  But I’m in no mood to let him talk.

  “That’s funny,” I say, dropping my voice to an almost-whisper. I don’t want to make a scene, but even though I’ve dropped my volume, I can’t keep the anger and bitterness out of my voice. “Because I really wanted to talk to you in August, 2005. Where were you then, Chase? Huh? And I really, really wanted to talk to you that last night we spent together. And what was it you told me? You told me that you’d ‘had enough’. That you were ‘done’. So, how does it feel, Chase? Now that the shoe is on the other foot? Because, you know what? I’ve ‘had enough’. I’m ‘done’, too. And now it’s my turn to walk away for once. And if you even think about following me, I’ll go straight to the campus police and tell them I’m being followed by a suspicious stranger. Goodbye, Chase. And don’t come here again. You’re not wanted.”

  Good as my word, I turn on my heel and walk off.

  He doesn’t follow, so he can’t see that despite my spirited performance back there on the steps, right now I’m crying my eyes out.

  §

  And I’m still crying my eyes out when I get home an hour later.

  “Geez, what’s the matter?” Gabby says, rushing up from the sofa to give me a big hug.

  “I forgot the cookies,” I sob.

  “Woah, woah,” she says. “I mean, sure, I’m disappointed, but it’s really not worth crying over …”

  I slump down on the sofa.

  “No, it’s Chase,” I begin.

  “I thought you said he was an asshole, and you were never going to have anything more to do with him?”

  “He is, and I’m not,” I reply. “But I haven’t told you the full story.”

  “I’ve got all afternoon,” Gabby replies. “Hit me.”

  “Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath. “Like I said, he was someone from my past. I was fifteen when I met him. I thought he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen … I still do. I was on vacation at my dad’s summerhouse. But he wasn’t just some boy from the town or anything like that, Gabby. He was my …”